Magnificent
by JealousOfTheMoon
Summary: He'd wanted so badly to be King Peter the Magnificent again, but it hadn't been worth it. In which Peter reflects, remembers, and repents--and in the end, Someone makes it worth it. Oneshot, PC Movieverse.


I don't have much to say about this one—it's mostly just a bit of delving into Peter's character with Aslan turning out as the hero in the end (do I sense a pattern here? hmm...). I have something similar worked out for Susan and Edmund with a stirring of an idea coming around for Lucy, though perhaps not all with the same conclusion (lest you think this may grow tiresome). In other words, this might turn into a bit of a series.

By way of disclaimer: this was written around midnight and edited around the same time the next night, thus it is undoubtedly saturated with all manner of abominations. Do us all a favor and let me know if it's too nonsensical.

Thanks, & God bless.

**Magnificent**—_by JotM_

'_Don't you ever get tired of being treated like a kid?'_

He's not exactly taken by surprise when those boys jostle him again. His words from before replay themselves in his mind. It's the same old story—but this time, he stops.

It had meant so much to him—once. But now…. he wonders. Is it worth it?

He'd thought so when he got into that fight, a fight that seemed so long ago, so pale in comparison with…with the stuff that had happened in Narnia. It hadn't been worth the gnawing of guilt he received from Susan's reproving eyes, or Lucy's worried gaze, or even Edmund's ready participation and obvious hurt at his own sharp words.

He'd thought it was worth it in Narnia—he'd thought he could work so hard to get his title back. He'd wanted so badly to be King Peter the Magnificent again, brilliantly masterminding a spectacular victory, showing up (what he'd considered then) a pathetic Telmarine's attempt at a king, bravely leading the troops down the swift path to victory.

Now when he tried to sleep, he heard the screams of the Narnians—_his_ Narnians—as they clung to the gates, their bodies laced with arrows…

That had been his fault, and it hadn't been worth it.

The fiasco in Aslan's Howe hadn't been worth it either. He could still see his brother's pale face, his voice choked with shame, mouth twisted in self-loathing. Having the Witch's power that close to his hand, something that would make him truly _Magnificent_, or so she'd whispered to his mind—hadn't been worth his brother's sobs. He'd paid for that by hearing his brother, King Edmund the Just, pass sentence on himself—

"_I used to follow her—I wanted to _be_ her—and I as good as killed _Him_, Pete!" _

He closed his eyes to the memory. Not here. Not now. Later, when he could bury his face in the pillow to stifle his own screams, when he could tear at his hair and cry the tears of penitence and pain that befit a confused boy on the cusp of manhood more than the Magnificent king he'd thought he could be.

"Afraid, Pevensie?" With a start, he jumped back to the present, to find himself looking in the sneering face of the largest boy. Someone behind him took a sharp breath. Susan. He knew Edmund was at his side, ready to jump into the fray if he needed him, and Lucy had to be somewhere watching too—

It _still_ wasn't worth it. Suddenly he felt very tired—and old—and almost ready to be treated like a child again.

"No—it's just—sorry," he blurted. "Wasn't watching where I was going there for a minute, I suppose." He smiled, albeit a bit tightly, and turned away.

It didn't sting like he'd thought it would, but it didn't make him feel any better. He'd finally done what he thought was right, chosen to walk away, but it still wasn't worth it. His shoulders slumped a little, and he wondered if anything wise was worth doing when it so obviously wouldn't make up for all the stupid in his past.

_Is anything worth…anything?_

The others were catching up with him, so he wiped all this from his face and tried to look indifferent.

As they went to retrieve their luggage, Peter caught Edmund staring at him with a look on his face that said, 'Well done, but you won't hear it from _me_.' He tried not to let Edmund see how much that look had meant to him (his brother couldn't stand that sort of thing), but his throat got a little tight and he gave the younger boy a short nod. He had to look away then, but he knew Ed understood.

Then, when the High King took Lucy's suitcase, his sister took the chance to squeeze his hand and glow at him proudly—and he knew it was about more than just his chivalric assistance. He'd smiled a little more readily at this.

But all that paled in comparison to _it_. _It_ happened when Edmund and Lucy were sufficiently distracted by the bustle of the station. Susan had just seized his arm and whispered:

"Peter! You were _magnificent_."

There was an irony behind the statement that he doubted she'd thought of, but it didn't matter. He smiled at his sister, silently thanking Aslan for all three of them.

And then he heard _it_. He did not know whether _it_ was a whisper from a lingering moment in his past, or something far greater and more wonderfully mysterious—but with undeniable certainty he _heard: _

_Well done, Child. _

And then with unshakable conviction he knew.

It was _definitely_ worth it.


End file.
